Song of the Waves
by Lia Whyteleafe
Summary: Over the constant sound of the waves...he hears another song.


Song of the Waves

**OK...here goes. This is my first fanfiction, so please go easy on me! Also, I apologise if any of the characters are 'out of character'.**

**I know, I know – the title's rubbish. But it's the best I could come up with.**

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own anything. I wish I did, though.**

He stands listening as hard as he can. All he can hear are the waves against the ship and the shore.

The summer day is perfect. The sky is a bright shade of blue, and the sea only a few shades darker. All this beauty is lost on him and his companion. They are listening too hard to see.

How long has it been since they were sent on their voyage? He was told it might take a very long time to find what they sought – was warned that maybe they would never find him. He might have died when Beleriand sank, or taken his own life, or faded.

Suddenly he feels a hand on his arm.

"_Listen!"_

His companion is staring at the shore.

He hears nothing – merely the sound of the waves. And then...

A song echoing in the wind.

His breath catches in his throat.

_Please...oh, Eru, please..._

It is him. It _is!_

He would know that voice anywhere. A wild mixture of hope and joy springs into his heart.

"I will go ashore and find him."

"You do realise...maybe he will not wish to return?"

It is one of the horrible, aching fears that have secretly haunted him since they were sent out. Yet he is determined to do this – if only to ask for forgiveness.

"I know."

"We will wait here for you."

... ... ...

_What am I going to say to him? What on Arda __**can**__ I say?_

He remembers waking up to the sound of muffled sobs, and whispers of: _Forgive me...forgive me..._ Forgiveness that day he had readily, happily granted.

_I did not blame you, brother. You could not have done anything else._

The warmth of the sun is on his head and back and the wind is blowing through his hair, whipping it into his face – things he never thought he would experience again.

The small stones barely make a sound as he moves over them, following the sound of the voice. He is certainly getting closer.

He leaps over a rock, and stops. He has found what he sought.

There is a lone figure sitting by the edge of the waves, singing. His long hair is bound away from his face, which is pale as alabaster. He has not faded...but from the look of him, he is not far from it.

He still has the most beautiful singing voice. But this song is of sorrow and regret. Every word that comes out of his mouth is filled with pain.

The observer just stands, watching. He blinks away tears that threaten to roll down his face.

_I did this to you._ _I did this..._

Suddenly the singer's voice stops, as if aware that he is not alone. He stands up swiftly and begins to move away.

"Maglor."

The singer stops, and goes as rigid as if he were one of the statues their mother used to carve. Slowly, he turns around.

His once-bright eyes are like shafts of fear. He goes even whiter. The expression on his face is one of disbelief and complete shock.

"...Maedhros?" he whispers.

Then he does exactly what Maedhros hoped against hope that he would not. He turns and runs from this apparition.

_No!_

Desperately, Maedhros speeds after his brother and catches him with ease; wrapping his arms around the frail figure, he holds him to his chest.

... ... ...

He is reminded horribly of the times he would chase Maglor and his other brothers across their gardens in Valinor – when he caught them, he would subject them to playful tickling. One memorable time, he had been so engrossed in torturing a wriggling and squealing Amras that he had not noticed his father quietly approaching him from behind until it was too late. Fëanor had wrestled his oldest son with mock-roughness to the ground and tickled him without mercy until Maedhros had all but screamed with laughter.

... ... ...

"I'm sorry, Maglor. I am so sorry. Forgive me, my brother."

Maglor doesn't reply. He is breathing so hard, Maedhros is afraid he is going to faint. Carefully, he releases Maglor from his hold. Maglor turns and faces him.

"How...how did you get here? I saw you leap into the chasm..."

"Mandos released me; he released all of us – except Father. He said Father's time is not yet come. If...if you wish...I'm here to take you home. We are all waiting, if you..."

While he speaks, Maglor just stares at him, his eyes filling with tears. Then he is back in Maedhros' arms, clinging to him like a drowning man clings to a log that floats past. He is weeping and sobbing brokenly.

Maedhros has only heard crying like that once before in his life.

... ... ...

It had been impossible to tell them apart at that age, but Maglor had said that he could – the one he had named Elrond had 'solemn little eyes'.

It had been Elrond who was crying. His twin was curled up in the bed next to him, sound asleep. He had already done his share of weeping, but Elrond had refused to break down until he had thought nobody could hear him.

Maglor had walked over to the bed and sat down, gently stroking the child's silky black hair. When there was no sign of the tears subsiding, Maglor scooped him up, cradling the elfling and rocking him back and forth. Eventually the child lay sleeping in his arms.

Maedhros never forgot the look in Maglor's eyes as he gazed at the small, tear-stained face.

When he and his brothers were small children, their father would sometimes come into their rooms after bedtime and give them a goodnight kiss when he thought they were asleep. Maedhros would not have been aware of this had he not felt the gentle touch of lips on his forehead and a small caress on the top of his head one night. Opening his eyes just a touch, he saw Fëanor softly move away and repeat the process with Caranthir.

Maglor had the exact same expression of tenderness and love that Fëanor did then.

... ... ...

Maedhros clasps his weeping brother to his heart, whispering softly to him as if to calm a frightened child.

"It's all right, it's all right...hush, little brother."

Carefully, he kneels on the sand, with Maglor still in his embrace. He begins to rock him, pressing kisses to his brother's head and trying in vain to wipe away the tears that are falling down Maglor's cheeks.

He doesn't care or notice that his own tears are dripping onto his brother's face.

They sit like that while the tide slowly comes in, the sound of the waves rolling around them. Eventually, Maglor's weeping ceases and he nestles quietly in the arms of his brother. He is still gripping Maedhros' shoulders as if terrified that if he loosens his grasp even for a moment, Maedhros will vanish.

The sea has now almost reached them.

Maedhros wraps one arm under Maglor's knees, and another around his lower back. He stands up and begins to walk back the way he came, towards the ship that waits to take them home.

On deck, three male elves are waiting. One has hair of deep gold, one black hair braided with gold, and one with hair as dark as the shadows of twilight. As one, they see Maedhros approaching, with his precious burden carried in his arms.

And at the sight, the third elf smiles and whispers almost inaudibly: _"Father."_

**Personally, I'd like to think Maglor made it home one way or another. But hey, that's just me.**

**The Silmarillion says that Fëanor wouldn't be released until the end of Arda. It says nothing about his sons. I don't know if HoME does.**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**


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